by Clare James
“Well, Aria,” I ask, unable to wait another second. “What do you think? Forget it all and become mine for one day?”
Suddenly, I want this. I want it bad.
She leans into me, and in a surprising move, she brushes her lips over mine. I have to hold myself back, because I want to devour her.
“Is that a yes?” I ask, but she’s already walking away.
“I’ll think about it,” she calls back to me.
“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes, then,” I say, mustering up every ounce of confidence I can.
I’m so screwed.
After the shenanigans with Aria in the alley – something I still can’t believe we did – I’m in agony. Physically. Mentally. What the hell am I doing to myself? A hook-up with someone like Lissa would be so much easier.
It’s like I never left this shitty town. Back to sleepless nights over a girl who may, or may not, be interested in me.
Last night, I really could’ve used the sleep. Especially considering I start teaching a new class today. What do they say about those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach? Yeah, that’s where I’m at in this point in my life.
Funny thing is, I’ve never been the academic type. Universities are more of a place to tidy your mind, rather than free it. It involves so much talking about theory and plans and case studies rather than going out there and actually doing something.
My college career didn’t last long by any means, and now I’m supposed to be promoting the classroom experience.
“Have fun today, Professor.” Danny calls to wish me luck, which is so not a guy thing to do. My unconventional ways must be rubbing off on him.
“Ugh,” is the only response I have.
“I know you don’t want to admit it, but teaching is in your blood. Look at what you’ve done with me.”
“It just feels like I’m admitting defeat or something,” I say.
“I thought this was just temporary.”
“It is.”
“Then stop whining like a little bitch and go to work,” he says.
And back to Guy Speak 101.
“Oh, and now that we’re all about full disclosure and shit,” he says before releasing a long breath.
“Yeah?” I say, not sure I want to hear it.
Full disclosure was definitely a new concept.
“Aria will be on campus today,” he says.
I rub my neck, just the thing I need to hear when I’m already off to a shitty day.
“She’s taking classes?”
“Going into nursing, apparently.”
“Nursing? She can’t stand the thought of blood.”
“Well, unlike you, maybe she knows when it’s time to pull out the big girl panties and do what needs to be done,” he says.
“Fuck you.”
“Have a nice day, dear.”
And with that, I head to the university with images of Aria in glasses and a collegiate sweater. So what if students haven’t dressed like that since the 50s? A guy can dream.
Damn, and I thought I was in trouble before.
Aria
I’m reeling all night after my – well, let’s call it what it is – spectacular orgasm with Tris. And, even worse, I’m considering his offer. Part of me craves the excitement, the naughtiness of it all, but the other part of me is thinking about Jimmy’s words.
Never reach for a falling knife.
And man, this was one dangerous proposition.
I want Tristan, but I also fear him – like an addiction.
Whenever he enters a room, everything else falls away. Yet we detest each other.
We also crave each other, desperately. And I’m worried that my need for him will make me risk everything for a touch, a feeling, a moment of pleasure.
And now I sit here wavering. My body screams to go to him; my mind tells me it could be the mistake that breaks me.
“Buddy, you need to eat breakfast,” I tell Cade, who happens to be in the middle of a tantrum this fine morning as I’m thinking about mind-blowing orgasms instead of preparing for my first day of school.
“No,” He turns his little lip out and pushes the bowl away. “I hate Cheerios.”
What in the H is going on? Cade hasn’t had a meltdown since he was two. Please don’t pick today to regress. Please, pal.
I push the bowl toward him again, strangely reminiscent of the situation with Lissa at the diner.
But when he pushes the bowl back this time, it goes crashing to the floor. I try to snag it in mid-air, but stub my toe on the table leg. Then I slide into the table, soaking my shirt in the milk puddle that’s now dripping onto the floor. A few drops hang from Cade’s nose from the splatter. He giggles and draws a happy face in the milk.
So I guess the saying should be never reach for a falling knife or falling bowl. Good to know.
One more smiley face in the spilled milk and I lose it.
“Cade,” I yell and he freezes. I don’t think I’ve ever raised my voice around him before. “Look at the mess you’ve made. I have a big day and you’re making it so hard on me.”
I throw my own little tantrum then, slamming drawers and stomping around as I clean the mess. And when I move onto Cade, his eyes go wide as saucers and his bottom lip trembles.
“Sorry, mama,” he says. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Why won’t you just eat your breakfast?” I ask, pleading.
“It hurts my neck,” he says.
“What?”
He rubs his throat and now it’s me whimpering. I’m yelling at the kid and he probably has strep throat or something. God, I’m a terrible mother.
I pick him up and we snuggle on the couch to watch a cartoon together, both still wet from the spilled milk.
That’s where Serena finds us.
“Why aren’t you two ready to go?” she asks. “It’s getting late.”
I fill her in on the story while she cleans up Cade and I try to straighten up.
“He’ll be fine, A,” Serena says. “If his throat is still bothering him at lunchtime, we’ll head over to the minute clinic.”
“Maybe I should stay home.” I feel panic coming on.
“You can’t do that. It’s your first day.”
“Tell that to my brain,” I say, packing up the rest of Cade’s bag. “Because all I want to do is take care of my boy.”
Once I leave the house, the day doesn’t get any better. On campus, an asshole with a lacrosse stick takes my parking spot.
“I had my blinker on,” I scream out my window.
“Didn’t see it.” He winks. Winks! “Sorry, babe.”
It’s the last close spot near my first class because everyone drives here. It’s a big commuter school. So I drive around forever and end up in the Siberia lot by the lacrosse fields of all places.
The universe is clearly fucking with me today.
So I end up ten minutes late for my first class, wearing my only clean jeans which are old, faded, and full of finger-paint. Washable paint, my ass. My hair is hanging in clumps by my face, sticky from the Cheerio milk I was bathed in this morning, and I forgot to brush my teeth.
But worst of all, my heart still aches from the way I treated Cade. Maybe I should just stick to being a waitress and forget school. What if I’m one of those people who can’t handle stress? What if I can’t do it?
I don’t have much time to ponder those questions because my mind is busy. Too busy for the internal dialogue that usually rules my day, and that is a welcome change.
After recovering from the embarrassment of arriving late, I actually enjoy anatomy. While I was pregnant in Iowa, I was able to fit in one semester of generals before Cade arrived. I was one of the last students to register there, but managed to pick up two general science courses. It couldn’t have been more perfect for the nursing program, because biology and chemistry are prerequisites for some of the courses. I’m amazed that I finally did something right.
After the class housekeeping is taken care
of, we begin with cells. Okay, I can do this. Cells are fine; cells I can handle. Maybe I can slowly work up to the blood and guts.
During class, nobody stares at my jeans or sticky hair. Most everyone keeps to themselves. Whether they’re listening to the lecture or staring into space, I can’t quite tell, but it’s a comfort. And before I expect it, people are filing out. Class dismissed.
There’s an hour break before Intro to Nursing. Then it’s off to the diner for the lunch rush. In my spare time, I’ll work on my online psych class.
I’d rather have started off the summer session at a slower pace, but to get my financial aid, I needed nine credits. I’m more than a little worried; I’ve never been the best student.
Sitting in the commons, I can’t help the edginess I feel. The curse of the idle mind. I keep looking for Cade, like I should be watching him. All morning, I’ve had that sensation that I’m forgetting something.
I flinch when my phone rings. Once I see who it is, I fumble to answer it on the first ring.
“He’s fine,” Serena says instead of hello. “The quick test came back negative and the nurse was pretty sure the other one will too.”
“I’m so glad you got him in so early,” I tell her, feeling like I can breathe again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. Can I talk to him?”
“He’s in a very important race with the twins right now; do you want me to get him?”
“No.” Relief washes over me. “Let him run. He must be feeling okay then.”
“Totally,” she says. “What about you? How’s the first day of school?”
“I like it,” I tell her. “I really do.”
“I’m glad. You can tell me about it tonight, I just wanted to let you know the kiddo is fine.”
“You made my day,” I tell her before hanging up.
We get off the phone and I get a jump start on my anatomy text. For once, I’m ahead of the game and it’s so satisfying.
These last few days of signing up for classes, picking up books, and working at the diner have been the longest I’ve been away from my Cade in his life. It feels strange but also, I hate to admit, it’s been very freeing. Like my life is becoming more balanced or something. I forgot what it was like to be anything other than a mother. And the best part? Coming home to my little boy in the evening. He has so much to tell me about his day, his adventures with the bang-up brothers and Serena.
And then there’s Wild Wednesdays. My stomach flips thinking back to last week. Something else I never expected to be experiencing again. All these parts of me that I thought were gone… turns out, they were just dormant.
Speaking of, those sleepy parts are waking up once again.
I actually sense Tristan before I see him. What the hell? This is like four times in a week. Can’t be a coincidence.
“Are you following me?” I ask his shoes, unable to look up at his face.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He bends down, coming into my line of sight. He has gray sneakers with jeans and a blazer – a cross between a professor and a hipster. His hair is a mess and his scruff has me thinking about all the places I’d like to feel it on my skin.
“I’m using the library,” he says. “And I’m also on some official business. Have you had a chance to think over my offer?”
“What offer?” Oh yeah, this is how I’m going to play it.
He wiggles his brow.
“You weren’t really serious, were you?”
“Dead fucking serious,” he says, and my body buzzes.
“Tris.” His name comes out more gravelly than I intend.
“Don’t look at me like that. This is purely a proposal out of necessity. I can’t fathom going out with one of the tennis girls and my choices are limited. I don’t need a clingy woman right now.”
“Aren’t we full of ourselves?”
“Just being honest. And by the way you reacted in the alley way, I think you could use this too. Plus, I’ve heard nursing students need volunteer patients. You could always practice on me.”
“How did you know I’m in nursing?” I ask, clearly paranoid.
“I’m not a creeper, Ari. Just observant.” He gestures to my Intro to Nursing text and I feel a little foolish.
“Why are you so adamant about this?” I ask, surely he could have anyone in this town.
“I want you, Aria.”
Want me?
As if answering my silent question, he continues, “Yes. I want you spread across my bed, or up against the wall, or bent over my kitchen table. I’m not picky about where, and we already know when. So let’s make a deal, Aria.”
Every last bit of air leaves my body on an exhale. His words hang out there, forcing me to acknowledge them. Forcing me to make sense of this asinine proposition. And I want to acknowledge it. I want to answer, hells yes.
“Jesus, Tris.” It’s all I can say.
“Don’t overthink it. Sometimes the body just wants what it wants,” he says, glancing down at his phone.
And then he’s gone.
Tristan
That afternoon, I’m walking down the street wondering what Aria’s thinking about my offer. She doesn’t know about my proclivities in bed yet. If she did, she probably would’ve run without even considering it.
It’s not that I have a weird kink or that I’m into dungeon scenes or anything. I just happen to like things to go down in a certain way.
My way.
I’ve come to discover many women are keen to my M.O. in the bedroom. More than keen. They just need to be introduced to it in the right way.
Considering our few encounters, I’m sure Aria and I are compatible. The trouble is, with Aria, it’s more than chemistry. More than a physical need. I want her. Hell, I’ve always wanted her. But some sick part of me also wants to make her pay for breaking my heart. I might just be able to do that in bed, if she’ll let me. I wonder what she’d say if I explained it could be therapeutic.
There is no doubt in my mind that an affair with Aria would be incredible. We are drawn together in a purely primal way. It’s a sensation where you know it probably isn’t a good idea, yet it is the best fucking thing you’d ever heard of. Like those chips you can’t have only one of, that artisan cheese that makes your mouth water, the perfect full-bodied cabernet, the chocolate layer cake. Endorphin rushes and pure bliss. Best consumed in small doses. That’s what we are together, and what we need to remember. That’s why this situation is perfect.
Up until now, we’ve been pulled apart. Too many obligations and too many people around us. Our lives are not our own. What would we do by ourselves with a full night together? I ache just thinking about it.
And she’s close, so close, to saying yes. Which is why I didn’t mention that I was teaching. She might not like the power exchange in the real world, and I can’t scare her off when I’ve come this far.
“Hello, Tris.” Ms. Prince catches my arm as I walk down the street thinking crude thoughts about her daughter. So very classy of me.
“Hi, Ms. Prince,” I say. “You look amazing today.”
“Thank you, sweetheart, but stop with the formalities.” She fusses with her shirt. “You’re an adult now, you can call me Amelia.”
“All right then, Amelia.”
“Cade, this is Tristan Green,” Amelia says to the little twerp. “One of your mommy’s oldest friends.”
“I remember,” he says, eyeing me carefully.
“Hey, Cade,” I say. “How are you, dude?”
“Good.”
“We met at the grocery store and ice cream shop,” I tell Amelia. “You must be happy to have him here.”
“I don’t even have the words, Tristan. Both Cade and Aria. I’ve missed them so much. And now we have together dinner every night. And Serena’s nannying for all my grandchildren.”
“Where is she today?” I ask, not ready for another run-in.
“She takes the other boys to speech in the afternoon so I have Cade for a few hours.”<
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“Sounds perfect,” I say.
“I have a red hand,” Cade announces out of the blue.
“Okay,” I add, unsure what the proper response is. Man, children are strange creatures. “That’s pretty cool, I guess.”
“The boys were playing cops and robbers today,” Amelia explains, “and when Leo told Cade that he was caught red-handed, Cade insisted he needed a red hand.”
“Of course,” I agree. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“That’s what I said,” Cade pipes up.
“Oh shoot, I’ve left my purse at the diner,” Amelia says. “Do you have time to watch Cade for a second? I can get down and back faster on my own.”
“Sure, I was just walking to the park to work on my next lesson.”
“Oh, perfect. You can keep walking that way, I’ll meet you there.”
“You want me to take him to the park?” I ask. Is she out of her mind?
“Oh, would you, sweetie?” she asks like it’s no big deal.
“Yeah, the park. Will you, T?” Cade asks.
Did he just give me a nickname?
“Okay,” I tell them. “I guess I could do that.”
“Wonderful,” she says and turns to leave.
“Wait,” I tell her. “Don’t I need some instructions or directions or something?”
“You’ll be fine.” She pats me on the shoulder.
“But what if he has an accident?” I ask.
“You’re just walking a few blocks.”
“Of the bathroom variety.”
“He’s been potty trained for two years.”
“What if he cries?”
Little dude glares at me now.
“He’s a boy, not an alien, Tristan.”
I’m not so sure.
“You can handle it,” she says. “I’ll meet you there.”
The alien and I race to the park, but he pouts when I win. Maybe I should’ve let him have that one.
“You cheated,” he says.
“I have to, dude. I’m an old man. How else do you expect me to win?”
Cade looks at me like I’m insane.
At the park, we play tag and I try not to cheat. He’s laughing so hard, he falls to the ground and I notice a long line of snot dripping from his nose to his upper lip.
